I would have done anything to banish the uncertainty in her eyes, so I gave a resolute nod. “I would love nothing more.”
The air felt a little tighter between us, as if our agreement had tied us together in a new and irreversible way. Perhaps it had. A breeze rustled Alice’s hair over her eyes, breaking the connection. After a moment, she walked toward Margaret, leaving me alone with my easel and sketch of my wife.
I watched as she sat down on the blanket beside my sister, pointing at the sketchbook in front of her with a broad smile. Margaret’s gaze flickered up to Alice’s face, a look of clear contentment in her eyes. If only I could be more like my sister, unafraid to admire and love—trusting others despite having every reason not to. There was always more to learn from Margaret.
A deep sense of yearning assailed my heart as I observed their interactions from my place under the tree, until I was convinced that I had never seen anything more beautiful.
With her arms outstretched at her sides, Margaret spun in a circle, head craned up toward the ceiling. Her eyes were closed, a smile plastered on her lips. She paused to hop on the tips of her toes as she listened to the notes of the pianoforte.
I stood behind the doorway of the music room in the south wing, keeping most of my body out of sight.
I didn’t want to interrupt what I had stumbled upon.
In the late afternoon sunlight, Alice’s hands raced over the keys, playing a tune by memory. Margaret rarely had the opportunity to enjoy music. I didn’t have the skill to provide it, and neither did the servants. The pure joy on Margaret’s face made my heart melt into a puddle at my feet. Her long blonde hair splayed out from her head like rays of sunlight, and the moment the song ended, she clapped.
Margaret’s disinterest in company seemed to have faded at the sound of the pianoforte. She took a few steps toward Alice, still bouncing with delight. “Again?”
Alice turned, her smile just as wide. “Of course, my dear. You are a very accomplished dancer.”
It had been a week since I had introduced Alice to Margaret, and the two had become dear friends already. Margaret retreated back to the center of the floor, prepared to demonstrate her dancing once again. Alice began the same song from the beginning, seemingly unbothered by the repetition. I couldn’t tear my gaze from her as she played, but I couldn’t very well lurk in the corridor much longer either.
Without making a sound, I walked into the room. Margaret seemed to sense me nearby, her eyes flying open. Her dance paused for a brief moment, but then I extended both my hands. She blinked fast, taking them with a smile. We spun together, and I matched my energy to hers, hopping when she hopped, and releasing her hands when she pulled them away. Laughter was rare from Margaret, but the delightful sound spilled out as I led her into a twirl.
Alice glanced back, tripping over a few notes as she noticed for the first time that I was there. Her face split into a smile, and she played with renewed vigor. I laughed along with Margaret as we continued our rather clumsy dance.
Over the past week, I had taken a morning ride with Alice each day. Our conversations hadn’t been malicious at all, infact, they had been light and easy. We told stories from our childhoods. I had learned more about what she liked and despised, and how she viewed the world. I had been trying my best to behave as a friend, even if I had no greater wish than to take her in my arms and kiss her again.Havingandholdingher was still forbidden if I were to respect the wishes she had expressed in the carriage the day of our wedding.
Laughinganddancingwith her, however, were not forbidden at all.
The moment the song ended, I approached the pianoforte. I was out of breath from my dance with Margaret, but I offered a deep bow. “May I have the honor of a dance, Mrs. Croft?”
Alice’s brows shot up. “Without music?”
“Margaret is still dancing, is she not?”
Alice grinned, a hint of pink rising to her cheeks. She took my hand, and I closed my fingers around hers. I thought of the dance I had asked her for at the ball at the Castle Inn. She and Miss Lyons had caused a scene and left before the dance could occur. I still wondered what their fight had truly been about, but I didn’t want to ask—not now.
Alice stood, and I tugged her toward the improvised dance floor. Alice laughed—at my enthusiasm, no doubt—but allowed me to spin her by the hand. She twirled, stumbling forward until I caught her by the waist. Her laughter rang through the room, echoing off the walls. “What sort of a dance is this?” she choked out.
“Why must all dances have a name?” I grinned, taking both her hands and stepping backward, then forward. She followed my lead, eyes glinting with amusement as she stared up at my face. Or was it horror? I couldn’t quite tell. My jovial mood could only be explained byher, though I didn’t know how to tell her that.
She continued laughing as I spun her around the room, performing rigadoons and chassés, tugging her left and right by the hands until we were both breathless with laughter. I pulled her close, holding tightly to both her hands.
She smiled up at me, the light from the nearby window catching green hues in her eyes that I had never noticed before. Perhaps it was the green of her gown that caused them to appear. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but the words lodged in my throat. Her laughter subsided, her eyes tracing over my features one at a time, a gentle curiosity in her gaze.
What was she looking for?
I felt vulnerable, as if a mask of some sort had fallen from my face during our dance. I stole a glance at her smiling lips. I had forbidden myself from doing so, but the temptation was too great. Waves of longing crashed through my stomach, and I realized that I had been absently running my thumb over her knuckles. She smelled of citrus and something sweet like molasses sugar, though I couldn’t imagine how that was possible. Perhaps it was due to her choice of soap, embedded in her skin and hair. I was beginning to realize that I wanted to know all the little things about her, such as what soap she used. Even the realization of all the things Ididn’tknow was bothersome.
Almost as bothersome as the fact that she had used the wordfriendin regard to me.
I wanted more than that. I wanted her in every possible way.
“Again?” Margaret appeared beside us, making Alice startle. Her hands pulled away from mine.
“I shall play a different song this time,” Alice said. “I think you will like it.”
Margaret didn’t reply but darted back to her place on the open floor. I willed the rate of my heart to slow, drawing a deep breath before turning around.
